


A Dick in Knight's Clothing

by andveryginger, Keldae



Series: Deja New [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Double Agents, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, RPverse, Spies & Secret Agents, non-canon backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 07:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16697980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andveryginger/pseuds/andveryginger, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keldae/pseuds/Keldae
Summary: She wasn’t waiting for a white knight. Good thing, ‘cause he definitely isn’t one.





	A Dick in Knight's Clothing

**Author's Note:**

> A little flashback – the first meeting of Mairen Bel Iblis and Reanden Taerich. Occurs in approximately 3643 BBY, two years prior to the outbreak of war, and the breaking of the Treaty of Coruscant.
> 
> Written by Ginger, with input from Keldae.

**_Kaas City, Dromund Kaas  
3643 BBY | 10 ATC_**

It was a rare, dry evening as Mairen Bel Iblis and her escort, Byron Cotuomo, stepped out onto the balcony. Clouds hovered, illuminated in shades of blue and purple, lightning streaking across the sky. In the wooded expanse below, the evening insects and amphibians tuned up, even as music from the orchestra filtered out the door behind them.

A chill washed over her and she drew her wrap over her arms. Had it been almost any other world, it might have been beautiful. But the heart of Dromund Kaas was cold -- uncomfortably so, the darkness tugging at what little light remained on the soggy planet. The pull was somewhat muted today, she had to confess, but it didn’t make it any less unnerving.

“Not often it’s dry enough for a saunter,” Byron said, leaning against the balcony railing, grey eyes scanning the horizon. Force-blind, he couldn’t sense the malevolence around them, nor her momentary revulsion. “The Emperor must be pleased today.”

It was all Mairen could do not to roll her eyes. “Yes, I’m certain that’s what it is,” she replied. She was barely able to keep the droll humor from her tone, opting to sip from her tall, fluted glass of sparkling wine to refrain from further comment.

Still, she wasn’t entirely sure he would have noticed. He was… focussed. On what, she couldn’t sense. It was enough, however, to distract his attention from any slight she may have offered, blatant or otherwise. It also seemed to have kept him even more conceited than usual for the evening.

The air around him shifted and he turned, leaning his hip against the railing. “A little mynock tells me that you’re about to be promoted,” he said. There was a gleam to his eyes.

“Hm,” she said, taking another sip. “I’d heard something similar. I don’t put much stock in rumours… especially not the ones floating around the Citadel. According to them, you and I married last week, and I’m expecting our first spawn.”

Cotuomo furrowed his brow, taking a step closer. His hand came to rest on the barrier, beside her hip. “Would that _really_ be so bad?” he asked. “You are a beautiful, powerful Sith, about to be promoted; my own star is on the rise within operations. It’d be a good match.”

Mairen shook her head. She had no intention in marrying -- not to an Imperial and _certainly_ not to a loyalist. She also had no intention on having children, not when they would likely be bundled off to Korriban as soon as they were of age. It didn’t help, she thought, that she felt _nothing_ for Byron… nothing save contempt. The physical attraction she’d felt for his dark hair, angular features, and broad build faded quickly, the more time she spent with him. She couldn’t imagine being tied to him until death.

“A good match for someone other than me, Byron,” she replied aloud. “I’ve no intention to marry, much less have children. Especially with someone I’ve dated only a few weeks.”

The furrow in his brow deepened. “As Sith, it’s your _duty_ to ensure the Empire continues,” he said. He took a step closer. “To ensure there are more Force-wielders like you to make our enemies cower.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, hand flattening against his chest as she halted his progress. “I _know_ my duty, Byron,” she said. Her voice dropped an octave, taking on an edge that was only partially theatrical. “I know my loyalties. I don’t need someone like _you_ to question them.”

He stepped in again, and Mairen stepped back, her hand still against his chest, maintaining the distance between them. “Perhaps you truly do.”

“Byron?”

Frowning, her companion turned and Mairen followed suit. Standing in the doorway was a man of average height and slender build, capped with dark hair, and clad in the familiar uniform of an Intelligence officer. There was a coldness to his dark eyes as he smirked at Cotuomo. “Charming as ever, I see.”

Anger and hatred rolled off of Byron, his own eyes narrowing. “Taerich,” he sneered. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Doing here?” The man called “Taerich” stepped out onto the balcony. Theatrically, he looked down at his uniform, then back up at Cotuomo. His smirk twitched. “Still an Intelligence officer; still invited to the gala.”

“I thought you’d crawled into a bottle and died somewhere.”

Taerich shrugged a shoulder. “Rumours of my death...blah blah blah,” he replied. “You should know better than to believe gossip, Byron. Especially around the Citadel.” He leaned against a nearby wall, folding his arms across his chest as he continued to speak. “I mean, latest rumor has you two happily married and a bun in the oven. Somehow I don’t see that happening.”

“As a matter of fact, you happened to interrupt my proposal,” Byron said, lips thinning. “Kindly go away.”

“Funny, that’s not what this looked like to me. Looks to me like the lady” -- he paused, nodding to Mairen -- “pardon me, _Her Lordship_ was tiring of your company.”

She felt it when it happened -- the way his anger and jealousy boiled over, tipping the scales, propelling him forward. His face distorted in a way Mairen had never seen, nostrils flaring, teeth bared. “You never learned to mind your own kriffing business, Taerich,” he roared as he charged.

The dark-haired officer waited a heartbeat, eyes narrowed as he seemed to count the seconds and then, as Cotuomo approached grappling range, he took an angled step toward the right, clearing his reach. His hand, flattened and braced, swung with precision, striking Byron on the pressure point that joined his neck to his shoulder.

Byron crumpled to the floor.

Silence hung heavily between them, Mairen blinking down at the unconscious form of her date. She looked up at Taerich. “I appreciate you stepping in,” she said slowly, “but I could more than handle him.”

“I’m certain, m’lord,” Taerich replied. He shrugged a shoulder, nonchalant, but she could sense indignation welling up behind the exterior. “Now you don’t have to.”

She frowned.  "Some of us aren't waiting for a _white knight_ to ride in and rescue us."

"You want me to revive him so you can 'take care of it'?” The agent gestured to Cotuomo, sprawled across the tile. “I certainly can..."

Mairen reached for him as he bent forward, and grasped his shoulder. That was when she felt it: An enormous shift in the Force around her, within her, and through her. She drew back as he jerked away, brow furrowed as he looked back at her. He stood motionless for a long moment, gaze searching her face for an answer he couldn’t seem to fathom.

“Nevermind,” he snapped at length. He straightened. “I’m sure you can handle it… _m’lord_.”

She watched him turn, rolling back her shoulders to stand to her full height. “Quite well, thank you… _agent_.”

He waved dismissively over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd. Mairen was left standing, watching after him, and wondering what, exactly had just happened.


End file.
